Feeling is for Losers
by Roaarr
Summary: What would you do if you were a person without any physical feelings no cold..heat..pain... ... and you were living in Gotham? - during Dark Night, JokerxOC some-very little-OCxBatman.
1. Chapter 1

**_Chapter 1_**

_" The wind blew mercilessly around me. The leaves on the healthy trees created a harmony so unbelievably pleasing, that it came in second only to the flavor of fresh, chocolate coated strawberries._

_Then I felt it—the wind._

_Tears sprang to my eyes as the new, cool pressure passed my skin and shoved me forwards. But then everything went black. All sensation was gone._

_I was in a deep dark space that seemed to be getting smaller every second I stayed there. Then I felt something. It was excruciating, and it was coming from my skin._

_I watched in horror as my freshly sensitive skin turned black, then green as it molded off before my eyes; dripping off in thick patches of skin and blood."_

I woke to my lungs gasping for air because of my screaming bloody murder until my lungs were void of air and the feeling of suffocation roused me. I started to hyperventilate and dashed to the vanity. Nope—The skins still there.

I let out a shaky breath, and carefully set my body on the floor, calming my self. _" It was just a dream. I swear, it was just a dream."_ Despite the intended calming effect, tears gathered in my eyes.

" _ohhh..... but the wind....the trees.... it felt..so..so.. real!" _I couldn't control my sobs, but I would keep quiet. I pressed my thin legs forcefully against my childlike lips to muffle the sound.

My small room glared back at me, showing me all of the possible dangers of the previous night. Sharp edges, walls, and a heater. Sighing, I wandered to the bathroom in my grungy apartment I shared with my only living relative and sister, Henna.

If it weren't for my... "handicap" I probably would have never of spent nearly as much time as I have in front of the cold, cruel mirror, staring at my childish body for any scratches or marks using concentration most people used only for future deciding tests. Which this was, in a sense, if you want to think about it. You shouldn't, I try not to.

No feeling of relief accompanied me as I stared unrelentingly at my face, first and foremost. My huge,gray eyes had a heartbreaking look of grief and disturbance in them from my dream. Otherwise, my small, button nose was fine. The light sprinkle of freckles above it undisturbed. My slightly chubby cheeks were red from my crying, as well as shiny. Long eye lashes, almost baby-like lips, and a teensy, pixie like stature give people the illusion of youth. My curly, red, Annie-like hair didn't help with that. Despite me being in my twenties, I still get coos and pats on the head. Nothing had scratched or burned my face, but I could never be too sure about the rest of me.

I analyzed my equally tiny chest that gave me some appearance of womanhood and my defined curves. Perfect. My flat stomach—nothing but the age old scar from times long passed. Same story for my legs, which were possibly the most adult thing about me. They were longer then the rest of me, more muscular from countless days of running after Henna. I held my breath while scanning my legs. Nothing—same old, same old.

I carefully peeled the tape from my hands. Tape, you ask? Well, it is important seeing as during the night I have the possibility of scratching my eyes out. So taped behind my back they stay. I scrutinized my bone thin wrists and hands and smiled in a lazy, relaxed manner. There-- nothing to worry about.

I continued smiling as I went on my way to wake up Henna so she can cook me some food.

_Henna_.... ahhh..... Henna is the best thing in my life. She is my sister, best friend, guardian, and when she needs to be, my mother. Even if she is slightly mentally..."different." What I mean is that she always told me to avoid men at all costs. They would hurt me, abuse me, and use me all for their own need. I trust her more than myself. I trust her with my life all the time. But that would not have been so bad if she had not punished me for even looking at a guy.. and showed me movies only where guys were the bad guys. I know though, guys are horrible, awful creatures, and I wont ever go near them,ever. I promised Henna.

My parents... you may be wondering where they are in all of this. It turns out that my parents ran away when they learned I had a problem. I have not heard from them since my third birthday, and I could not care less. If they ran that quickly, then they must not be the most fantastic people in the world. I think I have benefited from their great cowardice in the long run.

You would think that because I am so fragile I would live somewhere nice, like the suburbs of Virginia. No, you are dead wrong. I live in the only place we can afford, a grungy apartment in the slums of Gotham. Yes, the Gotham where a demented clown is chased by a superhero in a bat outfit. Yippie.

But I appreciate the Bat Man. He has saved me countless times. He has even taken the liberty of silently following me to the bank, where I work, and then back home. Hehe, poor Bat Man thinks I don't know he is following me. How delusional.

My name is Danielle Eupps, Dani for short, and I am for some unknown reason void of any physical feeling. We don't have enough money to get it fixed, even if it possible... Although I wish every day of my life that I could feel the air, or the cold rain falling from the sky. To know sensations such as hot and cold would be heaven.

_**Yet again, I am Dani. It is nice to meet you; and whether we are ready or not, we are about to board the biggest, most frightening roller coaster ride of our lives**_.


	2. Falling is Easy

My walk to Henna's room was slow and exaggerated, because Henna, despite how careful she is, can't quite help but to leave her stuff on the floor where I can step on it. She has always been that way for as long as I can remember.

I lightly rasped my hand on her door and giggled when she mumbled her usual nonsense.

" Hennnaaaaaa--------" I whined in my sleep filled voice as I heard her flop around on her bed and start her ear shattering snoring again. I wandered into her death trap of a room and poked her shoulder lightly.

She groaned slightly and picked her body off the bed. " I hate you Dani..." She declared sleepily once she had the door open. I stalked after her, staring at my feet, and giggling every once and a while.

"Sure, sure. I need food Henna, and you have to cook it. Unless you want me to do it myself—"

I was going to finish that sentence when Henna cut me off with a sigh of frustration.

" FINE! I will cook you some food you little monster...." She grumbled unhappily, her eyes amused, as she sped her way to our small, broken-down kitchen to handle the knives and other potential health risks.

I sat myself on the floor and leaned against the grimy wall, my head drifting back to my dream. So hauntingly disturbing, but pleasing to me. I could almost actually feel the wind... A peaceful calm settled over me, and I was about to pass out, when a huge clang sounded in my ears.

I looked up alarmed, but rolled my eyes when I saw that Henna had two pans in her hands. "Oww..." I moaned pathetically and stood up, grasping the wall for balance.

" I can't have you falling asleep on me, now can I dear sister of mine," her voice dripping with sarcasm,

"After all that trouble I went through to make you breakfast, after you woke me up, that wouldn't be fair now, would it?"

She cackled slightly as she wandered back into the kitchen, to get the food no doubt, and to give me no chance of responding, despite my billions of retorts she knew I had building up in my head. I scowled after her and wandered my way to the tiny table and sat in the squishy couch we had in front of it instead of kitchen chairs.

Our house is very odd, sort of off kilter, but neither of us minds it. It suits us perfectly. After all, a couch is safer for me than any wooden chair.

Henna interrupted my musings by loudly setting my plate in front of her and me. "Eat. Now."

I munched on the egg sandwiches she had made and cooled for me. I ate them as if they were a delicacy. She watched in approval as the signs of pleasure crossed my face, and couldn't help but smile at the blissful look on my face. She had cooked my favorite breakfast.

I suddenly felt horrible forever forcing her to cook for me and looked at her like a guilty puppy.

Henna reacted instantly and rolled her eyes at me. Ignoring my face, she offered to set up my bath. " No offense Hun, but you smell like shit." Henna sniffed the air a few times before scrunching her nose up to accentuate her point. " Yeah, I am going to get you a bath, whether you want one or not."

She grabbed my hand using her utmost care, and dragged me to the oh-so-familiar bathroom. She started to run the water, testing the liquid with her hand until she was sure that it was the perfect temperature and turned the showerhead on. I could probably do this my self if I wanted to, but Henna insisted on always helping me like this. She fears for my life so much.

Henna gave me a slight hug before passing out the door, closing it smoothly, but only after saying enjoy like she was an Italian chef. Of course she did, that is typical Henna.

I stripped myself of my oversized sweat pants and baggy Gotham T-shirt I had used as pajamas for the last four years and stepped cautiously into the water. This is the most dangerous part of my getting-ready routine. I could drown right now.

Keeping my head angled towards the tubs floor, I lathered my hair with the no tears child shampoo and conditioner that was supposed to smell like cherries, but instead smelled like trix cereal. It rinsed out fairly quickly, and I moved on to soaping myself with the gentle stuff Henna buys for herself, but that she allows me to use.

I was in and out of that shower in ten minutes, and I quickly and gently scrubbed my teeth free from the egg grime with my toothbrush and toothpaste before stepping outside to get ready for work.

My job is at the Gotham City Bank. You know... The notorious mob bank with the best security for miles? Yeah, that one. I figure I am safer there than at any other job because no one ever dares to mess with the mob. The only downside to this job is the uniform you are forced to wear.

I made it to my room and pulled out the drab uniform. It consisted of black pinstripe slacks and a gray button up shirt with a small pocket over the right breast. The only flair of color in it was in my shoes, and even then the shoes are your own choice. I love my bright red vans, and yes, they are men's shoes.

Because of my size I went through hell to get these clothes. All of them had to be specially fitted. I am just lucky I am a size two in shoes, otherwise I would be stuck with Barbie's and bratz on my feet.

Henna says it makes me look very business like, but imagine that on a girl that looks like a five-year-old. Wouldn't you think that they were just playing dress up?

I had that problem way too often at work, so eventually they just shoved me into the back of the bank to do paper work. Too many people were complaining about the Child playing at the front desk. Arrogant pricks.

With one quick hug from Henna, I was out the door and on my way through the dark, greasy streets of the Narrows.

About two blocks in, I caught an edge of the bat's cape where he was sliding into a dark space in the alley next to me. My unconscious anxiety vanished, and I walked along a little straighter and happier, my eyes flickering all over the place mindlessly to make sure I wouldn't get hit or pushed.

Once in a while I would have a busy person yelling at me to speed my pace up a little. Most people don't realize that just like there is car-rage, there is also sidewalk-rage. I have come to know both quite well, because I am the person always getting yelled at to move.

I finally made it to the safety of my bank just in time, and clocked in really fast, practically dashing for the board.

Moving nimbly, my legs pushed me to the back of the room and a teensy couch in the edge of the room where I would probably end up sitting for most of the time until someone decided they wanted something from me, which was never.

There is only one thing in this mortal life of mine that allows me to make it through every day. My music. Without my music I would probably be laying in Arkham right now with all of the other crazies. The music fuels me, keeps my engines running like new, it empties my emotional barrels, and it is really the only escape I have. Most people probably resort to showers to relax their stiff muscles and "wash away their stress", but since I can't feel any of it, it really doesn't work for me. Music does it all. Almost, no... Exactly like my own personal laxative. I hear any music, and I melt to a puddle wherever I am, no matter what I am doing and just calm down.

I borrowed one of my co workers mini-radios, and chilled for the rest of the day, my mind trapped in its own little world.

At the end of my ever-so-exciting day, I stepped out of the door humming the lyrics to "Psycho" by puddle of mudd, absorbed in my colorful fantasy; I only barely paid attention to the people and things in front of me.

I knew the Batman wouldn't be following me home because apparently the Joker had big plans for tonight, so it was probably doubly unsafe for me to not be paying attention to where my feet were taking me. I did not care one bit. Finished with my song, I quickly thought of a muse song, " Hysteria," and my throat once again started to hum with the fast paced beats.

People gave me the traditional "aww...how cute" face as I continued to hum on my way home. It was slightly annoying, but hey, I would take aww looks over sidewalk rage any day.

I was still humming any song that came to my mind when I strolled into my house, because I assumed Henna was still at work, our small, old TV getting dusty from lack of use attracted my attention. Shrugging, I slid over to it and pushed my finger delicately on the power button. A loud crackling met my ear, and I, cursing, quickly lowered the volume down about twenty decibels. Henna must have used it last.

Gotham news played images about food shortages in different countries, but then switched to its special feature of the day. The Joker apparently had released a video to the press! Oh wow! Not.

The joker started to circle a young looking girl, about twenty, while laughing his head off like only he can. " Helloooooo toots." He said looking directly at the crying girl.

"Please! Please don't hurt me! Please! I have a younger sister at home! Please! She needs me." This girl's pleading voice struck me as familiar, and I realized with a shock of horror.

"HENNA! No!" I screamed at the television and at the joker as he pulled out his knife.

" Then, Hun, why were you in a dark, scawy aweey way? " The baby voice was really annoying, and it did its purpose. I was pissed at him.

"Please, no. Just... please. She needs me... she...she..needs me!" an unexpected roar came out of Henna's mouth as she banged the metal chair up roughly. For such an average girl, that eruption was bone chilling.

The Joker just laughed even harder, and almost fell on the floor in laughter. "Hehehe, sorry. I can't let down Gotham, now can I, sweets! Everyone is looking forward to your death. Plus, we both know you wouldn't have been in that alley if you really cared for your sister as much as you say." Henna thrashed even harder at this, and the Jokers manic grin turned into a scowl. " Stop." Henna stood on.

"_No... Henna.... Don't kill her.... please!"_ I prayed hoping that just somehow she could hear me. No chance. The Joker was at her throat with a knife in a split second.

" You know what I do to people that don't listen to me?" His voice was menacing, and by the will of god, Henna slumped down in her chair and started sobbing again.

Henna looked directly at the camera, tears streaming down her red face that so much resembled mine. " I love you Dani, don't forget that. Don't let this... man... get to you. Keep your promises." Even though it was only mouthed so she wouldn't provoke the joker, I saw the sincerity in her eyes, and I started drowning in my tears and suffocating. The end was near.

Showing no mercy, the joker made deep cuts all over her face, grinning everytime Henna groaned in pain. Every second of the Video was pure agonizing torture to Henna from then on. Stabs to her legs and arms, mental jabs, and he ended her life after saying one thing.

Henna had been screaming help, and every once and a while whispering my name for her own comfort. Knowing that she must love whomever this Dani Character might me, he grinned wider and said as honestly as he could,

" They don't love you. You have only caused more pain to "Dani" throughout his life."

At this, Henna started to laugh hysterically, and insanely. I could feel what she was thinking. _" Fucking retard."_ The Joker quickly ended her life with just one precise throw of his knife into her temple, his head cocked to the side in confusion, eyes still wickedly amused.

Then the video ended and the news continued to roll. Despite this, I was frozen in my spot in front of the TV. Henna was my only purpose for living, and without her, it will be incredibly hard to even survive one day. My eyes were stuck open, clear tears streaming down my young face. My mentality was drifting away. _Fucking Joker... That was my sister, Damn it!_

Four hours later, I was still frozen there and I stayed that way the whole night, un-noticed tears claiming my face as there own. Only one thought was in my head, and it seemed to echo repeatedly, unrelentlessly.

"_Henna is dead. Killed by the Joker. A joke for Batman, a pawn in his little game. "_

I didn't go to work the next day, or the next. For almost a month I sulked around the house living off of safe foods like cheese and left over pizza and Chinese food that Henna ordered when she was too lazy to cook.

_Oh... henna_

I only came to life because of my extreme need to have people around me. I hate being alone. A few months of zombie-ness and joker related nightmares, and I was back on the familiar route to my bank, my body only cleaned by what was a severely analyzed piece of cloth.

My walk and entrance was met with pitying stares and small smiles. They all knew Henna; she was everybody's friend. Always kind and caring, never thinking about herself. One of those rare, actually sweet-hearted people. She was the reason why I had that job.

And she was killed by Satan himself. Hardly fair, I think.

When I stepped in to the bank though, a few things happened simultaneously. Everything got really quiet all of a sudden, and my boss limbered over to me, his eyes searching my desolate face before giving me a tiny smile. I inched away before he could to the traditional back pat. This will be the one thing I will keep sacred. Now that Henna is gone, I obviously can not help her anymore, so now I will avoid all contact with men. ALL men even if they are really amazingly awesome. I will die an old maid.

My boss just looked at me with sympathy before stepping back and ushering away all of the nosey co – workers of mine that were crowding around me like a flock of birds, thinking that I just wanted solitude. That is true in a sense, not that I was really ever that talkative, anyway.

I sat down forcefully in the chair, memories of my only relative swimming through my head, destroying any train of thought. It wasn't until I heard an exasperated sigh of a very fed up person and high heels clacking mercilessly on the floor, that I realized that this day was over. I had been sitting here, doing nothing for the whole time.

Feeling guilty, I ran after the girl who had attempted to wake me up. My shoes made squeaks from a puddle I had stepped in on my way, but she didn't turn around until I got there. Her name is Julia, I think.

Julia rolled her eyes at me before turning back around on her heel and mumbling, " You know, you are not the only one who has lost a sibling before." She walked away, completely ignoring me.

No, I don't think Julia has ever lost someone before. I happen to know that Julia has gotten the details of some of the people that request for money, as a good bank teller would. She is a very empathetic person. I doubt that she hasn't heard a few worse stories than mine ones where whole were families murdered by the purple freak that wears makeup. _That_ _Bastard. Criminal. Murderer._

No music played for me anymore. The joker ruined the radio with his rampages; he is all you hear about now, like a fucking celebrity.

People say I can't feel anything, but I know, henna knew, that they are wrong. I feel hatred, disgust, and agony... sadness.... Pain. Endless seas of pain rampaging in my head. I have learned to keep my erratic emotions under control with much practice, learned to control my every facial expression, even to the extend of making the emotion seem true in my eyes. As a person void of physical feelings, I have built up many defenses, this being my best one. It is faultless; no one can penetrate it.

I did not notice that I had made it home until a loud car zoomed past me, focusing my eyes, adrenaline rushing. Ripping agony passed through me as I walked through our... my house and I just collapsed onto the now dirty couch, imprinted with my body's imprint from my previous state. I was out for the count.


	3. If you Wanna get Out Alive

_Tick... to-ck...tic...to-ck...tic....._

The clock was changing seconds faster than I could imagine, it seemed. Spinning faster and faster, the hour hand went, my head feeling like a hot air balloon, the world spinning with the clock. The horrid anticipation was killing me. For what? I have no clue. When the clock stopped, my eyes flashed open, and a blood-curdling scream came.

This is the first time the clock has ever stopped. In three months, this has all it has been doing, spinning, making me sick, and twisting my nerves. Now that it has stopped its wretched cycle, I feel the waves of change and dread wash over me, nothing good is coming from this sudden climate change._ I can tell._

Continuing with my morning routine, my face more pale and thin from my lack of appetite recently and dark shadows under my eyes from many nights of sleep cut off by the face of the Joker, I survived another morning.

Who wants to call himself a joker anyways? _Freak._

When I was done my... "scan" and rub down, I was on the track to work once again.

Julia had promised to let me watch her at the tellers desk today, train me, if you will. I can feel no good will come from this, but she insisted. She wanted me to see all of the drained, lifeless people walking in like ghosts to collect their money. Had their families not been killed by " the Joker," they probably could be decent humans. _Sociopath._

The Bat was absent again today, and I was worried for the first time in a long while. What kind of threat is the Joker imposing now? _Attention whore._

When my body came to Julia's view, she dragged me to the counter that she worked at and motioned to a comfy looking chair next to her.

I of course sat, knowing that if Julia hated me enough to put a tack on the chair, she wouldn't have the thing next to her like this.

My head was only barely over the counter.

After several hours of staring at faces similar to mine, I was starting to feel sensory deprivation. The same bland colors... the same frowns... the same exact _smell _of sadness and agony. It was sickening.

Of course, now I would pay a billion to be in that situation. Funny isn't it?

When the doors flew open, I was still in my dazed stupor, and I didn't know anything was up until I heard the laugh. Oh.... that _laugh. _Just simply _hearing_ it made me feel sick.

The joker was surrounded by his cronies, all in their brightly colored masks, a bus behind him. My boss had a bomb in his mouth now, and the joker started to say something, giving my boss his full attention.

NOW.

Unless I was to be blown to bits, I had to get out, now. I ran, sped my way to the bus, quiet as a ghost. Maybe it wasn't his, I didn't know. I really just wanted out.

Seeing the money bags as I ran past, My suspicions were doubly confirmed. Oh well, crap. I didn't have enough time to reconsider. In a few seconds, the Joker would be heading back to the bus. I dove under the last seat just as the joker came in.

My heart was beating like a jack hammer, and I watched as his butchered face froze for a second. My heart sped up, if possible until he shrugged and walked to the wheel of the bus. Thank god. No, not god. God screwed my life. No, definitely thank Henna. She must be watching out for me from above right now. ... Even if I am in a bus with a mad man.

The building blew up once we were a safe distance away, only because of the Jokers mad driving. I would probably be covered in painless bruises tomorrow.

Swerving across lines and almost falling over a few times, we arrived at a gray, boring warehouse.

Once the engine cut off, I realized I was in quite the predicament. Of course the goons would come to get the money, and when they did, I would be discovered and killed.

Breathing in air,as if filling myself to my toes, I charged out of the front doors, the Jokers back facing me. He didn't turn.

I thought I was in the clear, until a strong pair of calloused ands grasped my shoulders. Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. I am going to die. The sudden adrenaline burst I received allowed me to knee my captor quite strongly where it hurts, and thinking it was the Joker I knew better than to run.

I quickly forced his nose up as hard as I could with my palm, knocking him to the ground instantly, him clutching his injured nose. Making sure he was dead, I wrapped my tiny hands around his throat for almost a half hour before I was certain. I almost let out a cheer, but that was before I saw the face of the dead man.

Let me tell you, it was not the Joker.

I, in a last ditch effort to save myself, stole the man's mask and clothes and slunk my way into the warehouse. The only problem was, I was about a foot shorter than this guy, and his mask just barely fit._ I am gonna be caught._

Eyes flashed towards me and back to what they were doing. Well, maybe not. I guess that since the Joker kills so many of them so often, they are never surprised to see someone new in a mask.

As long as I can stay away from the joker, I would be fine. _Right?_

* * *

**A/N**

**Please read?**

_I realize that I have been negligent on my updating, and I am so sorry. I got to reading most of these stories here and thought of how awful my writing is compared to everyone else's. That moment of doubt made it so I could not write. I figure, I should write it for myself, and not just for you guys._

_This is my first Fan fiction, for anything, and I am sorry if it is kind of... odd? I would LOVE your point of view on my story and encouragement as I write, and if you could, please review? Even if it is to say how god-awful it is. =] I need the feed back to get better._

_I will try to update as often as I can, but this kind of stuff takes a lot out of me. I infuse all of my feelings into anything I put here, and I hope you get that._

_Oh,**Disclaimer: I don't own the Joker or Gotham... or Batman.... Etc.**_

_( yeah, kinda forgot that.) _


	4. Lying is the most fun editedreadan

_AN: Hi. So... ive definitely been neglecting this story. It was my baby, but I gave up on it because I was going through some crap. Im really sorry. That last chapter was legitimately bad - Dani wasn't really...Dani. She was me. So,i'm going to re-write it again xD. Pleaseeee stick with me. I'm different now. I promise. (thats what they alll sayyyyyy xD But I mean it... really. :]) If I dont, i want you all to unsub. me. I will post another one on Monday, and it WILL be longer._

**_DISCLAIMER: _**I do not own any Batman character. And Andrew and Dani are mineeee. I keep them in my closet to poke with a stick when i'm not writing.

* * *

_**Lying is the most fun**_

As I force myself to walk completely into the warehouse, total disgust overpowers my senses as I sniff the air. I hear a pained scream, so I stop walking for a second to look up. When I do, my eyes widen in shock and fear. Even under the dim, florescent lighting, the ground sparkles with the massive amount of scraps of metal, broken beer bottles, and crooked nails covering it. _" Absolutely _beautiful..._" _I mumble cynically, and keep looking for the person who shouted in pain, vaguely worried._ ...What am I going to do if I FIND them? Tell their bleeding body that i'm worried about it? I don't have anything to heal with._

_Boxes with staples poking out the sides, with guns stacked on top of them, line most of the walls_, I note to myself. A TV consistently blares from somewhere, its sounds almost blending into the roar of people talking, laughing, and yelling.

Someone screams again, and I sigh in defeat. _Great. I guess a crazy man would have crazy goons, too..._ I shake my head side to side in utter contempt. Breathing in slowly until the air stops coming into my lungs and exhaling sharply, I warily continue to walk forward. _ how am I going to survive this? _

A second later, my van-clad foot slipped out from under me due to some liquid that had blended really well into the concrete. Instantly, the world seemed to slow down. I could literally feel my pupils dilate and my eyes widen completely; meanwhile, this sudden, pleasurable rush of fear and power coursed through me.

I was falling to my probable death, and I loved every second of it.

Eyes traveling as fast as they can, I desperately search to find some way to save myself. I reach out blindly, my arms passing slowly in front of me, confusing my brain but allowing me to grab the side of a wooden table nearby with both hands. My legs slide under the edge, and luckily, someones foot got in the way of me sliding all the way under and onto my vulnerable back, which would have negated the whole point of the grabbing the table thing. While my heart beat slows and time speeds up again, I realize, It smells like male.  
_I cant be that unlucky... _Denial floods through me.

I start to slowly, fearfully drag myself up when the whole table bursts into laughter and a gruff voice yells out from above me,

"hey, asshole! That was my foot you just slid to, not fucking home base!" And so, my poor heart picks up speed again. A hearty guffawing commences around the table as I scramble to stand as fast as I can. Breathing heavily, I look side to side scanning for any possible way out of here, before settling on the man in front of me, helplessly. His face is a blur of masculinity... I barely register his huge, knotted mane of brown hair and cruel, green eyes underneath my anxiety.

"s...s..orry... _man_" I stutter out, unable to completely remove my total distaste of men from my voice. Anger flashes in his eyes, and he stands, pushing his metal chair behind him. A horrible screeching sound emanates from the sudden motion, causing me to twitch and close my eyes for a second as hennas bleeding face flashes in front of my eyes._ Pain_

I open my eyes again as fast as possible, and it seems like all fury was drained out of his body while I had spazzed out. _so now hes just staring in open envy_._.. of nothing._ "Christ. Where do you get your drugs? Tell me your dealer."

I blink. "wh...at?" I force out.

"where do you get your cocaine." He repeats slowly, like i'm retarded.

His head tilts to the side curiously. I open my mouth and close it again several times, confused.  
_co...caine?_ A nervous, ugly "HAH!" pops from my lips._ Another lucky break, I guess..._

"Dude, Ian, calm your tits. He's obviously too drugged up to even know what you are saying." Another male. This one is pale and thin with black, dead eyes, a shaved head, and huge, self done gauges that make his ears pussy and red.

"But I feel like crap, _Andrew_" He said mocking the other male's semi-whiny, but still masculine, voice. " I need a hit."

I stand there awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Hennas lectures rush through my head. _I shouldn't even be here right now... I might get raped. What if they ask me to take my clothes off? Or rape me because i'm not talking?  
_"Hedied." My words ran together out of fear.

"Damn. My dealer died last week, too - except he was as expensive as shit and his drugs were worth a shit-load less than what I payed for." Ian says, looking me up and down with contempt and longing. "Nice clothes, by the way. You steal them off a dead ma-?" Andrew glares at him and interrupts.

"Hey. He probably doesnt even remember his own name right now, Stop screwing with him because you are jealous that he got to a good dealer before they got offed or taken in by Batman."

My head raised in hope at the word. _Batman. Batman will save me. He'll discover i'm gone and try to save me. I hope he realizes that i'm not just depressed again._

"See, Ian?" He said leaning over and staring into my eyes. I glance away. "Hes not all here right now." He places his hand on my shoulder, and I try to jerk away, but he doesn't let go. _how tight is he holding me? Oh shit. Hes breaking my shoulder._

Andrew turns me towards the other end of the hallway and he mumbles to himself " I swear, you either never eat, or have a serious, long-running drug addiction... you're so...tiny. How are you even one of the Jokers favorites? I want a fucking mask... Fucking awesome looking. Like... incognitoooo. A clown-ninja." His mumbling made the silence slightly less awkward.

I attempt to scan the ground and avoid more invisible water puddles as he rapidly pushes me further into the warehouse. _i'm going to get raped. or killed. Either by one of these grunt-workers... or the Joker. _


End file.
